


We’re On Each Others Teams

by mcubeliza



Category: The 100
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, be well be kind, beliza - Freeform, elizajaneface posted a photo, i cant stop screaming, seriously pls help, won the life lottery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 12:26:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcubeliza/pseuds/mcubeliza
Summary: ‘elizajaneface posted a photo’ god my heart fell out of my ass—this is a bellarke fic to what i imagine happened during that beliza photo. i didn’t want to write it as ‘bob and eliza’ because i write in first person and i felt weird so bellarke it is <3 obviously some things didn’t happen but it’s just a headcanon folks, also note that i don’t name ‘clarke’s brother’ — i mean pat in real life and i didn’t feel like calling him murphy or something lmfao





	We’re On Each Others Teams

I take the stairs two at a time, bounding down to the lower level of my mother’s home, clutching my phone in my fingers. When I reach the bottom, I pause in my footsteps, gazing at the screen longingly at the open messages.

He hasn’t answered yet—not in twenty minutes at least.

Slightly disappointed, I frown and follow the silence into the kitchen.

“Mum?” I call out into the emptiness—“she was just here _”—_ I say to no one in particular. Peering around the corner of the wall, I quickly scan the kitchen and living room for any sign of life. I’m unsuccessful; _however_ , my eyes land on the back door, cracked open a few inches. “Mum?” I ask one more time. 

The air is brisk, a sign of Australia’s early winter coming. Shuffling towards the glass, I wrap my arms around my chest, inaudibly swearing under my breath at the chilled wind entering the house. I thank my past self for choosing my favorite scratchy, black sweater this morning. 

Yet, when my hand reaches the handle, my eyes catch onto two figures in the yard, standing, conversing with one another. I’m paralyzed for a moment, hesitating before opening the door any further. My brother stands short beside him, his prized position—a brand new black camera—dangling from a strap around his neck. 

Bellamy’s so large compared to him— _broader_ , taller. His dark curls bounce on his forehead as he laughs heartily, arms folded across his chest.

He wasn’t supposed to arrive until Thursday—and it’s Monday. 

My world spins on it’s axis, my heart fluttering; I let out a quiet whimper as a chill runs up my spine. 

Every time I’m near him, I feel it. That _thing_ —that tug at my pulse that makes it absolutely race; gazing at him is as if I’m staring over the edge of a mountain, _falling_. It keeps me awake at night, and I often find that following our goodnight phone call, I clutch the device to my chest, still giddy over the sound of his voice saying ‘I love you’. 

It’s then that his eyes catch mine. 

I tug the glass door open, pieces of stray blonde hair whipping across my face at the sudden air. Hastily, I hurry down the steps, across the short distance of grass and into Bellamy’s arms. 

He lets out an animated groan as I collide with his rib cage, chuckling as I tuck my cheek into his chest. Bellamy’s warm, powerful arms wrap around my back, clasping together, and I throw mine around his, my fingers touching each other behind him. 

“You weren’t supposed to come until Thursday,” I blurt against his sweater, nuzzling my nose into the woolly fabric. 

I feel him let out a sigh against me. “I wanted to surprise you,” he laughs again and my heart melts for this man. 

All of a sudden, I catch the sound of a camera flash in unison to the feeling of Bellamy pressing his lips against the top of my hair. Carefully, I spin my body in Bellamy’s embrace to face my brother—who I neglected to remember was even present—and raise my eyebrows. Low and behold, he wields his shiny, new toy in front of his eye. “Sorry,” he exclaims quickly, pulling the object down before winking slyly. “You’ll thank me later.” 

There’s a silent beat of time before my brother clears his throat and backtracks, rotating on his heel so that he can skip up the staircase and disappear within the house. 

It’s then that our embrace concludes, and we draw back; however, our hands are still clasped onto each other’s forearms. 

“So, what are you _really_ doing here?” I press, slightly concerned. 

”Clarke,” Bellamy teases, rolling his eyes loosely. “Can’t a surprise be a surprise?” 

I scrunch my face in return and he moves his hands to my cheeks. The electricity beneath his fingers, his touch against my skin radiates throughout my body. Steadily, he presses a swift kiss on the tip of my nose; and without pulling away, he says giddily, “A surprise is meant to be a surprise, love.” 

“Fine,” I almost pout, attempting for a moment to hide the fact that I am without a doubt, so nauseatingly in love with this man and his surprises. But, alas, I fail, and my frown stretches into a toothless grin. “I just have to find my mum,” I lie, knowing damn well that Bellamy’s had her plotting against me as well. 

One eyebrow raised, Bellamy tilts his head just enough, giving me my answer. His fingers intertwine with my own, outstretching, pulling me along with him and whatever _surprise_ he has in store. 

***

”Okay, but the last time you surprised me, we went to the hotel where we first met.” 

“Clarke—”

”What? I’m just thinking out loud, Bell.” 

Needless to say, anxiety nips at the edges of my head. I pick at my fading nail polish, watching specks of maroon land on my black sweater and jeans.

Bellamy turns the truck into a dirt path.

My eyes go wide. ”Bell, this is the plot of every horror film, like— _ever_.” I express lightly, exaggerating my thoughts. 

Stifling a snort, Bellamy adjusts his glasses he had put on. “Love, just—wait.” He speaks smoothly; yet, there’s a hint of nervousness to his tone as well. 

Quickly, I reach a hand out to cover his as he sets the vehicle in park. It must startle him because his face whips up to meet my own, worry evident in his dark eyes. “Are you okay?” I waver, full of concern. “How’s your anxiety, did you take your medication today—”

”Clarke.”

I freeze. 

“I’m okay.”

”Are you sure?”

”Yes.”

 _Good_. “Good,” I sigh. 

He gets out of the truck and I practically fall doing the same before he can open my door for me. We meet in front of the bumper, wordlessly gazing into each other’s eyes for a long few seconds before Bellamy leisurely takes my hand and we begin to walk. 

My anxiety fades as we move into the forestry setting, a chilled air causing my hair to tickle my cheeks, but I’m too mesmerized to care—because suddenly I know exactly where I am. 

Streams trickle, small sticks crack under the weight of tiny animals scampering around us. I’m not exactly sure how long we stroll—ten, fifteen minutes—before we come across the shore of the crystal lake, decorated with leaves of reds and yellows and oranges. 

Without thinking, I abandon Bellamy’s hand to scurry forward. “It—It’s still so beautiful, Bell,” I gush, silently acknowledging the stray kayakers and small boaters that dot the water, sporting thick winter coats. “ _Peaceful_.”

I begin to shake my head in disbelief, turning back to face Bellamy. 

In every light, he’s mesmerizing—his thick curls, his cozy, welcoming gaze. And his unforgettable memory. 

“Our first date.” 

Bellamy shies away from my eyes. 

“2014,” I add confidently. 

He chuckles, arriving inches from my face in one stride. 

“I could never forget.” I feel tears wield in the corners of my eyes. “It was particularly warm”—I say expressively, allowing a runaway tear to escape down my skin—“You brought champagne, I brought cookies.”

Bellamy laughs and it’s contagious. Soon, I’m marching around him dramatically, tossing the details of our first date at him like it was yesterday. I feel his eyes on me the entirety of the time, all the way until I end up at the water’s edge, where I let droplets of the lake lap up against my shoes. “One of the best days of my life,” I kneel, reaching a finger into the cool water, swirling it around and studying the ripples. 

“Mine too.”

It’s silent for a moment as I reminisce. 

“Clarke?” 

Casually, I stand straight up, wiping my finger on my jeans. I’m looking at the ground, then at Bellamy, _then_ I’m looking at the object wrapped in his fingers. 

He comes closer and suddenly I’m paralyzed in place. 

“Clarke, I—” 

My brain stumbles, and I’m spinning on a high that started relatively hours ago when he arrived. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” 

Bellamy bends, his body relaxing when he sits on a sole knee. 

“I’ve—I’ve never known happiness, _comfort_ , in my life until I met you all those years ago, Clarke.” 

_Yes_. 

“You’re on my team when I feel like nobody else is.”

 _A million times over and over again, yes_. 

“And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Clarke Griffin.” 

My lips finally regain the ability to move and form words. “Yes.” I swallow, and I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. “A million times over and over again, _yes_.”

He doesn’t even have to ask. 

I’m on my knees, in his arms for the second time today. My head is nuzzled in the space between his shoulder and his neck and I’m trembling with sobs against his skin. Bellamy holds me tight, and doesn’t let me go—not when he places the ring onto my finger, not when I press my lips against his firmly. It tastes like tears, salty and wet, but quick; and it’s okay because I know that I have the rest of my life to receive more. 

“I don’t ever want to live this life apart from you again,” Bellamy whispers against my head, sniffling back tears. 

“You won’t,” I assure him. “You won’t, not ever again.” We’re huddled, wedged against each other like two puzzles pieces that were lost under the couch for years, and miraculously, they were found, and put right back where they belong. “I’m so in love with you,” I mumble into his chest, my mouth filled with emotion. 

“And I’m so in love with you.” 

We stay for however long we want, sharing gentle thoughts, soft giggles. Eventually returning back to the truck just before dusk.

That night, I accept ‘Congratulations’ from friends and family, wearing a proud grin, as I stay latched onto Bellamy’s hip. I embrace my mother, his too, and cry gleefully into their shoulders. His sister becomes mine, my brother becomes his, and we wear each other’s support on our faces. 

I steal glances at the man I love throughout the celebration, introducing him proudly as my fiancé. I toast to our future, to our love, to _him_. 

It’s the best decision I’ve ever made and I know that I won the life lottery with this man.

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter is @mcubeliza if you wanna idk beat me or something. or just scream out ‘best decision of my life’ and i’ll hear you from anywhere guaranteed.


End file.
